


Sigh No More

by luminarium



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: F/M, Gafou interactions, I love their dynamic, Rating may go up, Slow Burn, it's a story based on The Taming of the Shrew with Gaston as Petrucchio, yes I went there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-16 06:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10565616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luminarium/pseuds/luminarium
Summary: It takes an exceptional man to take on an exceptional task. Is he up for it?





	1. Chapter 1

Upon reaching the top of the hill, Monsieur LeFou thought it would be a good time to dismount from his mare and stretch his legs. Without letting go of the reins, he turned to admire the sight before him and breathe deeply the fresh air of the country. How he had missed Villeneuve! The quiet music of green leaves swayed by the warm spring breeze, the whistling of the birds chirping happily in the trees and the apparent stillness of the wilderness in this corner of the world was enough to make him feel at home. Villeneuve was far away from the noise of the big cities and, in his heart, he was thankful for it. Even if change was slow to come to this little town, its peacefulness made up for its shortcomings. Many a time, fighting foreign foes abroad, he found himself yearning for the comforts of the place in which he had been born and lived in all his life.

It was good to be back after so long, he thought. Deciding against mounting again, he made his way on foot to the heart of the little village. Time had the great quality of making things that would normally came off as irksome, oddly charming. This was the case the market that, on Sundays, was twice as big and colourful as it usually was, filling the streets with all kinds of eager buyers and sellers.

As he made his way through the crowd, he spotted an old acquaintance, which made him even happier to walk those streets again. Henri – a boy of twenty he had known since he was in his early teens, now a capable man that worked as a stable hand of one of the most respectable families in the surroundings – was struggling to make his way with three boxes of vegetables in front of him.

“Henri!” he greeted, amused at the sight. “How are you, boy?”

“Monsieur LeFou!” exclaimed the younger man, turning to him with some difficulty. Defeated, he decided to put down his burden and turned his attention to the man now in front of him. “Good to have you back so soon and in one piece!” he added with a little breathless laugh.

LeFou nodded with a smile. “I didn’t know you were running errands now.” He signalled the boxes. “I thought keeping the stables was work enough for a capable lad as yourself. Have you been naughty?” he inquired, with a little wink that made the younger boy’s cheeks colour, which the LeFou interpreted as a confession of some unspeakable deed. “Youngsters are incorrigible! No wonder you lot keep getting whipped! Perhaps that’s a habit Old Philippe should acquire…”

Henri hurried to explain. “Oh, no, sir! He is a kind master. He even insists that we should take days off, but sadly he can’t afford to send us away now. We are having so many guests these days, you see. Cook needs all the help she can get.”

LeFou frowned. “So unlike Philippe to throw parties. He has always been so reserved…”

“We wish that were the case, monsieur! To tell you the truth, he entertains but he doesn’t enjoy a minute of it.”

“What ails your Master, Henri?”

“The marriage of his daughter. That is,” he added quickly “he intends to have her wed and is on a quest to find her a husband.”

An image of the young Miss Rochard came to LeFou’s mind. A darling girl, with white, delicate hands, rosy cheeks and pretty pink lips made for kissing, if you were into that sort of thing. “That should not be a problem. Marie is a beautiful and accomplished young girl. I’m sure many a young man from these parts would be delighted to contest for her hand.” “Aye, she is. The master has no doubt she will find a good match, when she reaches her prime.”

“Then what is it that worries him so?” enquired the newcomer. “Sir, I’m not talking about Miss Marie. He intends to marry off her elder sister.”

LeFou’s eyes widened in understanding as he remembered all the things he had heard about the infamous Miss Charlotte Rochard.

“Dear Lord!”

Henri sighed, tiredly. “Now you understand my lord’s dismay. Who would have the guts to attach himself to that woman…? If she is indeed one, that is.”

“Now, Henri, that’s no way to talk of your betters.” His reprimand fell flat, though. If half of what was said about the woman was true, he could not blame the young man for referring to her so callously.

“But sir! Who would want to doom himself to share life (and bed!) with such a hellish creature! I cannot think of a man so desperate that would subject himself to that torture, no matter how rich her father may be.”

His fingers itched instantly as he unconsciously put his hands in the pockets of his vest.

“Rich, you say? How rich exactly?”

“Oh, the lord is wealthy enough, sir.”

LeFou’s voice dropped as he approached the young man, “Would you care to elaborate on that?”

He was counting on Henri’s initial reticence to tell of his master’s fortune, but a few golden coins did the trick. The retelling was illuminating enough to make him raise his eyebrows as his fingers run through the bottom of his empty pocket.

“But I’m telling you, monsieur. There’s no man who could bend this devil of a woman!”

A smile graced the older man’s lips. “Are you a betting man, Henri?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You see, I like you and I want to help you and your master. This whole business must be very taxing for the whole family. So, let me take care of it!”

“You would…?”

“Me?” he asked in disbelief. “Oh, no! No, no, _no_. I am _not_ the marrying sort.” He laughed good-naturedly and patted him on the shoulder. “But I may have just the man for the job!”

It was now Henri’s turn to laugh as he made to grab his errands again.

“I see you don’t believe me.” “It’s not that I don’t trust you, monsieur, please do not be offended!” he replied, amused. “It’s just I can’t imagine anyone capable of this.”

LeFou’s gaze left the young man’s face to conjure up the image of a handsome and roguish man in mind’s eye. He was instantly before him, standing tall and proud, his chiselled features exuding confidence enough to warm his chest with admiration and devotion.

“Well, he is quite exceptional.” He explained, fondly, to the incredulous stable hand. “To tell you the truth, there’s no one like him.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So…” began the little man beside him, making himself comfortable(ish) on the arm of the chair now occupied by the most celebrated man in the village and his most dearest companion. “How did it go this time?”

_"Nothing like resting after a morning ride"_ , thought LeFou, holding a pint in his hand and sighing contentedly, enjoying having his feet up while sitting in the best seat in the house. The tavern was nearly empty, with what the market in full bloom. Only a few habitués remained at the bar, one or two drinks away from being led outside in a less than gentle manner.

The unusual peace was broken when a man entered, stomping the ground. Glancing briefly at the tables around him with aloofness and mild contempt, he strode towards where LeFou sat, his steps resonating loudly as he went.

LeFou quickly stood up, making way for the large man, as Gaston, without even sparing a glance around, let himself fall heavily on his very own leather armchair and sighed as if all his considerable strength was leaving his body in that very instant.

“So…” began the little man beside him, making himself comfortable(ish) on the arm of the chair now occupied by the most celebrated man in the village and his most dearest companion. “How did it go this time?”

Gaston merely grunted. He was now caressing his temples in deep frustration.

This was a scene Monsieur LeFou had witnessed many times over the last few weeks. It all had begun the day of their return after several months to Villeneuve. By now, to an outsider, it would have looked as if it had been rehearsed. Indeed, it was merely the force of habit that made LeFou painfully aware of the abominable loop in which they were trapped: Gaston, trying over and over to win over Belle – local charming and puzzling girl who, for all intents and purposes, wanted nothing to do with him – and, after failing, coming to lick his wounds and drink his sorrows away.  

“Don't you think it's time to give up?” inquired LeFou, entwining his fingers in Gaston’s dark hair. The massage would surely calm him down.

“LeFou!” chided Gaston’s commanding voice. “I _never_ give up”, he added in a less commanding tone, now that the attentions of his younger friend began to affect him pleasantly.  

“Now, I do not doubt your diligence and your, _ah_ , commitment to the goal at hand. I do wonder, however, if she’s worth the trouble. She _is_ , of course, a lovely, most strikingly beautiful young _mademoiselle_ ” he was quick to add as he felt Gaston’s shoulders tense in outrage, “but perhaps she is not the only one worthy of your affections”.

“She is the best girl –“

“ –In town, yes. But what if I told you that a meatier target might be found in the outskirts of our little community?”

Gaston sat upright, relinquishing the touch of LeFou’s fingers on his black mane of hair. Sighing tiredly, feeling uncharacteristically defeated, he could not deny his curiosity had been piqued. Not that he would admit it to anyone.

“If you are determined to speak in riddles, my friend, I might as well get a beer”.

*

As soon as Gaston finished his third pint, LeFou approached him with his proposal. “Her father is incredibly rich and whoever attaches himself to the family would a very wealthy man.” He explained it all in a very straightforward fashion, knowing full well subtlety did not worked well on his friend.

“I have no interest in money. It’s not something I concern myself with.” Gaston raised his head a bit at that and took another sip of his drink, as if offended by the suggestion of him being in any kind of need.

“Maybe not _now_ but it doesn’t hurt to think about the future. It would be nice not having to risk our skins if we can help it… and you have been talking on and on about settling down for months! This is it!”

After a beat, and another ale, Gaston spoke:

“Who is the girl?”

“Marie Rochard’s eldest sister.”

LeFou raised his eyes from his own drink to see what effect it would cause on his friend. Gaston merely paused and rubbed his cleft chin, crossing his legs.

“How come I didn’t know of her existence?”

“Well, she likes to keep to herself. Also, no woman of her status would be spotted more than once or twice in the marketplace, let alone the tavern...”

“I haven’t even seen her!” he insisted, throwing his hands in the air, spilling beer all over the floor and not caring a whit. “Is she beautiful?”

_Ah._

At that, LeFou coughed and spit his drink. After his coughing fit was over, he dried face with the back of his sleeve, as he wrecked his brain to find a way of dodging that particularly hard question.   

“She… has an earthy quality that some would consider _very_ attractive.”

Even as he said it, LeFou understood he was on the verge of losing his friend’s interest, which meant not only saying goodbye to the life of peace and relative tranquillity in the countryside he loved so much and going back to the trenches, but also being forever subjected to Gaston’s bitter disposition as a result of Belle’s rejection. He could not have that. He _would_ not.

Out of the blue, an idea formed in his mind. It was so simple that he wanted to smack himself in the head. He had been tackling this the wrong way.

He was quick to kick himself mentally. “ _Stupid, imbecile!”_

“You know,” he mentioned, looking at his nails “the most renowned bachelors in Villeneuve and the surroundings are rushing to make themselves presentable to the young lady, as we speak.”

This remark was met with silence.

“My informants tell me they are bringing many gifts to her father and making show of their many talents in order to win her hand. The situation, apparently, has become so absurd that only this morning she issued a challenge: she insists she will only marry the best of them.”

He knew Gaston was listening to him intently because he turned his head to the side, albeit ever so slightly. His profile was truly magnificent.

“Wise girl, wouldn’t you say?”

The larger man said nothing and stretched out his legs before him. He then put his hands behind his head, flexing the muscular arms LeFou knew he had below the white linen shirt.

“The best of the best, eh?”

“It would be interesting to give them a run for their money, wouldn’t it? Show ‘em how it’s done? You would even have the chance to look at the girl beforehand. You know, to avoid rushing into anything… unpleasant”.

Gaston smiled. The gesture was feral and full of promise. He felt like himself again, powerful, charming, intent on proving himself to the world.

“Besides, you already have one up on them.”

“And what’s that, my friend?”

“You are _you_! And you enjoy a challenge, don’t you?”

“You know I do!” he concluded, still smiling, now looking up proudly at his heavily decorated walls.

LeFou laughed heartily, feeling rewarded.

“Oh, then you are going to _love_ this one!”

**Author's Note:**

> I AM TRYING TO WRITE A MULTI-CHAPTER FIC AGAIN. Bear with me. 
> 
> I'll try to update soon. Please, do tell me what you think. Feedback is greatly appreciated!


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